Nightmares
by colasun
Summary: Conor has dreams. Bad dreams. Nightmares that wouldn't let him sleep at night. But who could he tell? He worried his mom more than enough and his dad just couldn't understand. He wasn't there. But Dylan was. So maybe he could tell Dylan?
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys!**

**After seeing the movie 'Poseidon', starring handsome Mr. Josh Lucas, again after a very long time, I thought I'm going to look for ff's. Imagine my surprise that there aren't that many of them. So I'm trying to contribute to this fandom a bit. Dylan and Maggie are just stuck in my head. I hope you going to like it!**

**So here it comes. It's some time since everything that happened on the 'Poseidon'. Conor needs someone trustworthy other than his mom and he figures Dylan wouldn't tell on him. **

**Please enjoy these 1021 words!**

**Your colasun! **

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**I**

"I have these dreams… bad dreams… sometimes…" He didn't know why this had come out of his mouth. He didn't want to worry anyone, especially not his mom, but he knew Dylan wouldn't tell on him, would keep his confession a secret if he swore the man to secrecy. Dylan wasn't just her mom's boyfriend, he was his friend too. To him, he felt like he could confess, even if it embarrassed him to no end. He was a big boy, he shouldn't be scared of dreams. So he didn't look up to see if Dylan had heard his mumbling. Instead, his eyes were burning into his cards. It wasn't a bad hand, but he hadn't had won against Dylan to this day and he was glad he wasn't letting him win because he was a kid like his mom did. Even though she wasn't playing poker with them anymore. She was crap at poker.

"Me too.", came Dylan's voice through to him. Shocked he did look up then. He couldn't be serious. Dylan was a grown man. He had been in the Navy. They all survived what happened just because of him and Mr. Ramsey. If Dylan hadn't taken them with him when he decided not to wait for help in the ballroom and make his way out through the bottom of the boat instead, they wouldn't be alive anymore. Of that Conor was more than sure. So in his eyes, even if Dylan didn't want them to talk about him like that, he was a hero. Heroes didn't have bad dreams, have they?

The man looked at him dead serious. "Why's your mouth open, kid? Thought we're having a conversation between men here, don't we?" His real dad never wanted to have a talk between men with him, so this was another thing he liked about Dylan. "Sorry.", Conor stated abashed. Dylan just shrugged it off, so Conor thought it safe to go on. "About the boat?", he asked braver than he felt. His were about the boat. About all that water. All that destruction. All the dead people. The man nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, about the ship, the water, about all of us. Is that what you're dreaming of too?" Conor took a deep breath before telling his friend about the dreams.

"Sometimes I see Miss Elena. How pale her skin was and how much she'd bled." His breath hitched and tears threaten to overcome him like every time he thought about her. Back then there hadn't been much time to cry for her. The water had been closing in on them fast. He didn't know her very well. None of them, except for his mother. He had met Dylan just earlier that very new years evening, running in on him while playing his video game. Most grown-ups scowl at this kind of thing, but Dylan had been cool, asking him if he was okay while picking up the game console and his poker chips. His mom made him apologize to the stranger nonetheless when she told him the captain had asked Connor to join him.

"It was very nice of you to give her back the cross, Connor. I wouldn't have thought of it myself." She'd given them the necklace to use as a screwdriver for the screws that had kept the latch of the vent they were stuck in shut. He's dreaming of that too. How Mr. Ramsey had held him up and told him to take his time and not to drop it. How struggled Dylan's voice had been when he'd asked how things are going up there. Good thing Connor hadn't looked down or he would've dropped the cross for sure. Despite that, he was sure that Dylan was too hard on himself. His mom told him how she went looking for him after he went off on his own, again, and how a wave had swept her away. Dylan had send Mr. Nelson, Chris, Jen and her dad to go to their planned escape without him so he could look for her and together they came saving him.

"Mom said she's sure Miss Elena is happy to have it back in heaven." He wasn't sure if he was believing this whole heaven-and-hell-thing. After all, neither the Easter Bunny nor Santa Clause were real. And if there was a God who was watching over them, why had he let that happen to them in the first place? Why did he survive and all the others did not? It was hardly fair. His mom had tried to explain it, but he didn't quite get it and Dylan wasn't saying anything to that, so he obviously didn't believe that, did he? And Dylan could've died too even before that when he just jumped headfirst into burning water after their bridge had crashed down. He'd been so relieved when he saw the man emerged out of the water with that fire hose. The memories were flooding his mind in no particular order. He's never going to go for a swim again, even if he liked swimming before.

"Come here, fireball." Without needing to be asked twice Conor rounded the table, hiccuping a laugh at that silly nickname Dylan gave him when they were both 'thinking' and he had wanted to prove the man's theory about what's behind that door they were standing in front of and sat himself in Dylan's lap. The man hugged him like he always did. Not saying he was a baby for crying or too old or that he wasn't his father.

"I'm dreaming too, y'know. Sometimes I wake up at night, but your mom always makes it better. So next time you're scared at night you come to your mom's room." Conor nodded, hoping he wasn't ruining Dylan's nice dress shirt with his subsiding tears.

A minute's gone by without one of them saying anything, just hanging onto their own thoughts. "Just knock first before you open that door." The lines around Dylan's eyes were crinkling when he said that and Conor felt instantly sick in the stomach. Adults were so gross sometimes.

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**So… this is part one out of two. What do you think? **

**I'd like to upload this on archiveofourown too, but there is no own fandom for this. Does someone know if one can create one or if the admins had to do it? Are there any rules for it, say for example, how many stories there have to be? Thanks for your help! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys!**

**I hope you're all well with everything going on in the world right now. I don't know why uploading this took me so long, but here it is. The second chapter. I hope you enjoy reading these 1184 words like I did writing them. **

**Your colasun!**

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**II**

"How long were you standing there, spying on us?" She had been standing out of eyesight but within earshot for what felt like forever but probably had been just a few minutes. Hearing her two boys talk had made her stop in her tracks and her heart leap in her chest. She was so glad Dylan could get to her son like she couldn't. Connor, wanting to be strong for his mom, didn't want to make her worry again, she knew. So he refused to open up when she tried to get him to talk to her. Her mother had suggested sending him to a specialist like this was the solution to all of their problems, but as of now, she hadn't been sure if a stranger really would be the right path. Maybe him opening up like he just did meant he could still be a kid of ten years without going to therapy for the next ten. So after hearing Dylan's comment on how her son should better knock before coming into her room, she thought that this had been her cue to step in before the man could outline the reasons for that. She'd kissed Connor's head and send him to brush his teeth before bed and took his place on Dylan's lap after he was gone. Her arms were circling his strong neck whilst one of his hands had settled on her waist and the other on her thigh, creating heat in places he really shouldn't with Connor still up. There would be time for that later.

"What, you're not even kissing me hello before interrogating me?" He could probably guess the answer to his own question without her having to admit her listening in on them on accident. Instead of calling her out he grinned at her with that boyish charm of his and kissed her. It wasn't a tame kiss of greeting after not seeing each other for a few hours. His stubble were rasping on her skin, his tongue was down her throat and she could feel his hard parts becoming even harder. The realization made her pull back a little, her hands still caressing his face and carding through his short blond hair, unable to completely let go. Just in time for her son to come back to the room, scrunching up his cute little nose in disgust. She was glad he was still at that age where he wasn't that interested in girls. Standing up Maggie tried her best to ignore Dylan's hand brushing her behind subtle but firm, not to be seen by any underage persons. Easier said than done, but she could manage. Ushering Conor to his bedroom the boy called out a "Goodnight!" to her boyfriend who merely managed a "Night." back before they closed the door behind them.

Conor slipped into his bed in his second favorite pj's, because his favorite pair had been with him on the ship and he had refused her buying him the same again. "Did Dylan behave while I was with your grandma? You had an eye on him, didn't you?" When she told Conor to be good when she first let the two of them together alone, he had sworn Dylan was way worse than him. She hadn't been sure that she could argue his point with Dylan being a veteran, occasionally swearing and teaching her son how to become a professional poker player, not to mention the glint in his eyes when he looked at her, so she'd reversed their roles. "Well, he said just one bad word when he stubbed his toe. That's alright, I think." Hopefully, her boy wasn't telling these things in school, or otherwise, child service might stand on their doorstep soon. "Just don't repeat it, sweetie, or people will think he has no manners at all.", she said in good humor and Conor giggled.

Maggie knew she shouldn't let on that she'd been listening in, but she had to make sure he knew he was welcome anytime if Dylan was in her bedroom or not. Knocking was better, though. "You can come talk to me anytime, sweetie. You know that, right?" She brushed his hair out of his eyes, even if it wasn't that long. "I know, mom. You too." He looked her in the eyes as seriously as an adult, which made her just about melt into a puddle on the floor. Wasn't her son the sweetest? She kissed his cheeks and tucked him in one last time, leaving the dimmed light from the lamp on his nightstand burn for him to decide and the door a tidbit open as well.

Dylan was just scrolling through something on his phone, scowling down on the device like it did something to personally insult him. "What's up?", she asked and sat on Conor's stool, picking up his cards. "Another mail. Want to give me half a million bucks for an exclusive interview. Vultures." All five of them had been questioned about what happened and how they survived from the review board in congress it would be again most certainly. But they had drawn the line when they'd wanted to do that to Conor too. Eventually, they had agreed that the boy had suffered enough. Of course, the press had been hot on their heels from the moment they stepped foot on land. Drenched, exhausted, wounded inside and out they had microphones and cameras shoved into their faces.

"Ignore them. They will give up when something else comes along." He punched what she assumed to be the delete-button harder than necessary and flung the phone carelessly on the table. Seeing her holding Conor's cards lifted his mood immediately. "You're shit at poker." She gasped in mock horror. That's why he hadn't uttered many bad words in front of the boy. He had saved them all for her. "That's not true!", she argued. Well, it was, but he didn't need to point that out so bluntly. "If you say so." He didn't believe her for a second, obviously, because they had played before numerous times. It hadn't gone so well for her. At all. You could argue that he does that for living, but where was that famous beginner's luck when you needed it? "Maybe you're just a bad teacher?", she suggested and because the table wasn't that big she slipped out of one high heel and let her stocking-footed toes wander up his calve and his pant leg. His grin deepened. "Take that back." She shook her head and let her foot wander higher. And higher. "Are you trying to distract me, Maggie?" Definitely. "Is it working?" Her foot had found its destination. It was, in fact, working. Dylan lowered his voice. "Can't wait to bend you over that table." They both knew that wasn't going to happen as long as Conor was just in the next room and could hear or see things that traumatize him even more for life. It would have to wait until they're really alone. Until then it's going to be the bedroom.

"You staying the night, don't you?"

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**That's it. I hope you liked it! **


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